A Heart's Storm
by Behind221B
Summary: It's been a good few years since Sherlock and Irene saw each other last in Karachi. And now Irene had decided to make a surprise visit to 221B, and finish their 'dinner' at the fireplace. Post-His Last Vow. Written by me, and my awesome Tumblr friend myscienceofdeduction.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

London stood still in a particularly cold and stormy autumn afternoon. People were rushing home, desperate to be in their isolation of warmth and comfort, like ants rushing to their colonies. The bells tolling 3pm from Big Ben sang through Westminster, as the invisible London cabs drove down the busy roads of the grand city, in silence. Among the crowds of the people, all dressed in plain blacks, whites and greys, carrying their suitcases and designer bags, one stood out. Her red lips exposed and her dark navy fur coat brushing past a shoulder now and then. Her high heels were clattering along the cold pavement, as quickly as they can. With the lack of an umbrella, Irene Adler was fighting against the wind that was rapidly building up. Turning up her fur collar did not do much good, and her balance was being swayed by the wind more and more with every step she took. She was close to her destination, but struggled with every passing second.

Irene sighs in slight annoyance as a storm breaks out, clashes of thunder echoing through London. When she was little, Irene remembered her parents telling her that every time there was a thunder storm, it meant that two dragons were having a fight. A delicate smile was written on her face, as she decided to call for a taxi. Waving her hand at a passing taxi, it stops.

"Where to, darling?" The anonymous driver asks The Woman.

"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street..." was the answer. There was a sense of tiredness in it, as Irene quickly noticed. She was sleepy, hungry and lonely. She hasn't eaten in days, and not slept for a maximum of four days. It has been a rough four years, and after Sherlock Holmes saving her from her execution, her life has taken a drastic turn. The cab made its turns and dodges, as Irene continued to swim through the memories of Sherlock. Still in disbelief of her weakness of falling for him, she smiled to herself. 'How could an apparently homosexual woman fall in love with a man?' The Woman thought to herself. A man with such extraordinary thought, but with such innocence. He being a virgin surprised her, considering him having an attractive biology. But she understood the reasons for that; his obsession with cases allowed no time for sexual thoughts or desires.

Irene steps out carefully out of the taxi, and hands the money to the driver, who eyed her with a degree of desire. She was used to that. But if she got that from Sherlock, she would probably melt like steel. Such an impossible scenario would corrupt her completely. The cabbie thanked her, and drove off. Irene found herself standing opposite the ebony-black door, with the big '221B' nailed on it, along with a knocker. A smirk escaped Irene's lips as she stood there for about three minutes. But there was a hint of something a bit different from just glee in her mind. Her stomach was also turning from anxiety. She has not seen him ever since he was shot, and she assumes that he is aware of the rose she had given him. It was unlikely he took it, but Irene liked to think he did.

Her high heels quietly walked closer to the door, as the rain only started to fall even harder, and the thunder continuing to roar, following with a sudden flash of lightning. The wind again started to build up, nearly blowing Irene off-balance. She had to make the decision of either using the knocker, or doing the 'traditional' climb through the bathroom window leading to Sherlock's bedroom like she did last time, bringing him back his coat she borrowed, and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Well, let's see if you remember the unfinished business. Let's have dinner..."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He groaned in frustration, smashing the Petri dish against the wall. 'What did I miss?!', he shouted desperately when suddenly a faint scent of a blend of sandalwood and patchouli accompanied by fruity notes of fresh citrus, melons and nectarines...no, peaches – obviously!- tickles his nose. A scent he recognized immediately: The Woman's scent! Noticing the clacking of the very familiar stilettos on the bathroom tiles getting louder, he immediately jumped up and rushed to the bathroom pushing the door open. 'Mr. Holmes, let's have dinner', she smiled wickedly.  
'Oh, not you again... Out of my head! I'm busy!' growling in annoyance.  
A moment of silence passed. 'I'm flattered', Irene grinned mischievously.  
Sherlock furrowed his brow, wondering why she didn't vanish from his mind and confused about her statement. '...Sorry?'  
'Oh Sherlock, I'm disappointed, come on, think! Brainy is the new sexy' winking at him.  
Exactly 8 seconds passed until it struck him like lightning: She wasn't in his head, and more importantly he just revealed her that he's thinking about her all the time! Quick, think of something to distract from this!  
Finally he managed to say or rather stutter 'um..You...you're wetting...'  
'I certainly am dear', taking a step towards him.  
He cleared his throat and flatly said '...wetting the floor...you're wetting my floor.'  
Just now she realized that she's completely soaked from the heavy rain outside.

'Well I'm gonna take a hot bath now or I'll catch a cold'  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, sighing 'Do what you want…'.  
She took off her coat and her soaked clothes slowly, almost seductively, but he seemed to be unimpressed.  
'Wanna join me?, she whispered into his ear. He frowned. 'Why would I want to do that?', cocking his head.  
'Well you wanted to do that back then in Karachi so I assumed you want to join me now as well', winking at him.  
After she mentioned Karachi he immediately blushed. 'Dammit Sherlock turn the other way! She will notice that you're blushing!, rushed through his mind and he's trying his best to hide his face but considering the wide grin Irene has spread all over her face, he was obviously not successful. She finally disappeared behind the bathroom door and he let out a relieved sigh.  
Sitting in his chair, wearing his tartan dressing gown, his eyes tightly closed and his fingers resting on his chin, he tried desperately to find a distraction in his mind-palace to calm him down, but the woman is in every room of his palace right now. It annoys him that he can't control his physical reactions, even a fool could see that his pupils were dilated when he saw her and his heart hammered against his chest – was he that obvious? Yes, he was and he might shoot the wall out of frustration! Unfortunately, he can't because bloody Mrs. Hudson 'confiscated' his gun. Apparently it is too 'dangerous' according to her. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
The creaking of the bathroom door tore him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see her emerging from the bathroom.  
'I would be delighted if you would put some clothes on, Miss Adler.', he stood up and passed her his blue dressing gown.  
Putting it on she said huskily: 'Thank you, Mr. Holmes or should I rather say Sherlock? Seems appropriate to me considering our…activities in Karachi.' winking teasingly.  
Oh what a woman! Making the great Sherlock Holmes blush…twice.  
'Call me by whatever name you want but I won't call you Irene if you were hoping for that'

Even though her face features didn't change, her eyes gave her away. He could see a glimpse of pain and hurt in her eyes, but ignored it though.  
Irene sat down on his lap. Sherlock didn't move a muscle, his expression was neutral and yet he was internally panicking, asking himself: 'what is she up to? What should i do?!' then she finally broke the silence: 'heard you let that Janine girl sit on your lap….and you kissed her. You never kissed me…at least not on the lips'  
'You're not the sentimental type'  
'Are you sure?, she ran her left hand over his cheekbones causing him to look down on her hand. Something's on her finger!

An engagement ring?!


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: SMUT ALERT! That's right, if you wanna avoid some frickle frakle, skip this bad boy ;D This is the first time I've written such lovely smut goodness, so be gentle, pretty pwease. Other than that, enjoy!**

"I see you have...moved on...?" Sherlock asked anxiously.

"Well, to many I have. But there is a more..." she slowly snaked her fingers to Sherlock's suit, slowly undoing the buttons. "Complicated reason..." Irene whispered to his ear.

Sherlock remained motionless, only closing his eyes to try and mask away any signs of pleasure. His stance was that of a statue, desperate to ignore Irene's methods of seduction. He could smell the scent of her perfume, evidently sprayed across her swan-like neck. Her damp hair smelled of his shampoo, and according to his deduction, she washed her hair twice, with a conditioner in the end. Her skin smelled also of the lavender shower gel she also borrowed from Sherlock, filling his nose as he silently inhaled.

Irene continued to undo his suit jacket, while breathing hot air into his ear, clearly showing her need for him. Her left hand slowly slid its way to his neck, stroking it gently, while the other slid the jacket off his shoulders. Sherlock remained unresponsive, though with every passing second, it became more and more difficult. He wanted to make deductions; he wanted to observe her past by her body, her skin, smell, touch.

"Despite your efforts, you're not going to get through me..." Sherlock finally managed to breathe out.

"Oh, but by your gasping breath, I think we both know that's not entirely true..."The Woman replied, with her tongue very delicately feeling his now hot ear. By this point, the detective found it nearly impossible to withstand his emotions. For the second time, his weakness was evident to The Woman. For years and years, he had managed to make himself strong enough to withhold his emotions, but for some reason, Irene Adler always managed to break his unbreakable barriers.

"And how can you prove that?" Sherlock nearly growled. But it wasn't from anger or frustration. It was almost from a sort of twisted pleasure from teasing her, challenging her, taunting her.

And as soon as the last word escaped his mouth, it was taken over brutally by Irene. She did not hesitate, either. She groaned from pleasure, clearly enjoying the feel of his soft lips, as she delicately opened her mouth, hoping he would respond, leaving his statue-like state. She now has both of her hands pulling, tugging at his hair, while she slowly slides herself towards him, ever so more closer, with the blue dressing gown having no friction between it and his suit trousers.

"Oh,Ire-no..." Sherlock unluckily managed to breathe out.

"Oh, don't be afraid, Mr Holmes...say it..."

"Love is a chemical..." Irene started to kiss his neck "def...ect...I can't...I can't do this anymore, Irene...I.." And from that moment, Sherlock only noticed after five seconds that he also had opened his eyes, allowing Irene to use her clever tongue to lick his neck, exploring his taste. He tasted of what felt like tobacco, mint and wine, just like he did back at Karachi. He responded back, with a sharp gasp, enjoying what he is now receiving. Irene slowly started to undo the purple shirt's tight buttons, all with one hand.

'Yes' Irene thought to herself, claiming her victorious round. Looks like Sherlock's a tad bit easier than she thought.

"You seem quite an expert in this..." Sherlock managed to breathe out to her, before returning to the detective's neck.

"Oh, I have much more up my sleeve, dear" Irene's words escaped her lips, finally undoing the last button, revealing Sherlock's pale and smooth chest. She quickly slid off the shirt, and Sherlock gasped a little, as the sudden temperature hit his skin. Her red fingernails stroked the flesh, while still kissing the detective, groaning from the bottom of her throat.

Sherlock was in shock to find his hands no longer on his lap, but rising slowly, to hold Irene's neck, caressing it, while he leant forward and started to inhale every quiver of her scent. Irene hissed in response, arching her head backwards, as Sherlock's hot breath escaping his mouth was being absorbed by her smooth skin, his large hands still holding her neck gently, feeling her heartbeat elevating to an insane speed.

"Sherlock...how long can you last...?" Irene asked, wanting his lips in contact with hers,her desperation for his lips in contact with hers more and more.

"Oh..."She gasped in surprise, as she felt Sherlock's lips turn into a wry smirk, as he started to gently kiss her jaw line, and his lips finally found Miss Adler's mouth, kissing her passionately, exploring her mouth deeply. Irene's hands quickly found his raven curls, entangling her fingers in them, pulling harder with every bite that Sherlock now took of her bottom lip. He bit gently at first, but as Irene pulled his strands, he bit harder, each time.

The Woman eventually started to feel a gentle metallic taste in her mouth, due to him biting so hard; Blood. But especially her being a dominatrix, she didn't mind it at all. She even started to enjoy the pleasant pain, biting him back, and him also eventually drawing crimson blood from his perfectly shaped lips. She has always loved that distinct Cupid's bow on his top lip, gently pulling at it, and biting it.

"So...not so immune to saying my first name now, Mr Holmes, are we...?" Irene cheekily asked the steely-eyed detective, whose eyes initially were of ice, now turned to an inferno of lust and need.

"Positively..." Sherlock lied, being aware that his need to have her all to himself more than ever.

With Irene's patience wearing thin from the layers of clothing on them (well, him anyway), and the intimate position of them on his chair, she started to slowly aim her hands at the zipper of his trousers. But she felt Sherlock's hand grab hers in protest. She knew that despite him being with Janine, according to 'others' that she knows, he is still a virgin. The rain back outside again started to build up, with a possible storm approaching.

"Not here" Sherlock said in demand with his baritone voice. His voice was that of liquid gold to Irene, which made her shiver in response, giving him a nodding sign of her succumbing to his command. Sherlock lifted her almost limp body wrapped in blue silk, and carried her to his bedroom, leaving his jacket and shirt next to the fireplace. Thankfully, she was light, so carrying her to their destination took a mere five seconds.

When they got to the bedroom, Irene noticed it was exactly the same as she last seen it. 'Some things never change, do they?' - Irene thought to herself.

With one fluid motion, Sherlock deposited the Woman onto the bed, and laid himself on top of her, eyeing her, waiting for her to respond in some way. Irene grabbed Sherlock by the neck and pulled him to her mouth. He straight away responded, kissing her back, his tongue feeling hers, swirling its way round her. His hands were either her head, with his legs also on either side of hers, embracing his dominance of her delicate figure.

"Do I have your permission to continue…?" Irene breathed out, and she admits to herself, she was rather nervous and excited about this, because she knew she is about to take away something from Sherlock that he openly values, from what she has seen. She is also aware that he has virtually not much experience.

"How much…experience do you have?" She asked, ensuring on how easy she should go on him.

"Janine has taught me the basics of foreplay…" Sherlock muttered under his breath, now focusing on her neck, gently nibbling and biting it.

"Don't worry…let me guide you…" Irene whispered into his ear, with hands exploring his broad and strong shoulders, and then going on his back, feeling the smooth pale skin of the detective.

Her hands instinctively went to his zipper, while Sherlock continued to play with her neck, and his hands slowly stroking the silky material covering The Woman's petite body. Irene gave a smirk as she took one of his hands quickly and guided it to the knot, in which he responded back by undoing it slowly, but with slight excitement, while Irene was busy with the zipper, which she slowly started to undo.

Sherlock opened the dressing gown, revealing the chest and breasts of the dominatrix. Irene hissed at the sudden cold sensation, making her get Goosebumps. Sherlock's tongue left Irene's neck, and his hot breath slowly went lower and lower, to her collarbone. Irene finally got the zipper low enough for Sherlock to take them off with one fluid motion, leaving only in his undergarments.

Irene's need for Sherlock to be inside of hr grew stronger, as he then started to explore his mouth over her warm breasts, while Irene could do nothing but raise her upper body in pleasure, gasping for air. Smirking, the detective took a gentle bite to one of her bosoms, all while Irene grabbed one of his busy hands, and guided it to her lower abdomen, giving him a sign of her want for him to perhaps 'play' with her.

Sherlock gave her a puzzled look, as if maybe perhaps to try and fool her. But Irene only smiled more, with Sherlock not being able to withstand his desires any longer, allowing his fingers went even closer to her now very wet centre. Suddenly, Irene felt Sherlock's hot and wet lips invade hers, passionately roaming, as she kissed back, she felt a jolt of electricity as she felt one of his fingers slide into her.

"Oh, perhaps you don't need as much guidance as I thought you would need" she managed to mouth out between their kiss, and as Sherlock gave her a teasing smile, he slid another finger inside, making her wet centre pulsate more, while her hands wandered themselves to his aroused length, and subtly tugging at the lining of his boxers. But before she could go any further, she breathed out his name, as he slid a third finger, and started to side them in and out, slowly at first, but increasing their pace as she whispered his name again and again.

"Oh, I thought I was the only one who was immune..." Sherlock said with a cheeky grin, and to Irene's surprise, managed to fluently take off his undergarments. A rush of thunder can be heard from outside, exciting both of the lovers. Another passionate kiss took hold of both of them, and as Sherlock increased his face with one final effort, Irene whimpered out his name, as she came. Sherlock slid his fingers out and grabbed her by the waist, making them both sit up and face each other, their hot breaths inches away from each other. Irene wrapped her legs around his waist, and Sherlock gave her a longing look, as though asking her permission to be inside of her.

Irene gave him a nod, and before she could say more, Sherlock gently slid his length into her throbbing centre, as The Woman grabbed Sherlock by his hair, pulling at it hard. The detective arched his head backwards and whispered her name in sheer pleasure, while his hands now exploring her chest, running up and down her ribs and then her chest bone.

Irene also arched her head back, allowing Sherlock to start kissing her neck, while slowly thrusting into her back and forth, all while Irene getting her fingers tangled in his ebony curls while his mouth continued to explore her marble skin. Irene never knew that Sherlock could be this...vulnerable. Never in her life that who seemed to be a man so unattainable by others, could slip into Irene's mindset so fast. It was hard to believe that this man was innocent a few minutes ago, who now is not a virgin anymore. Well, maybe to the newspapers he wasn't a virgin for a while, but like Moriarty once said, the media are in fact, nothing more than fairytales.

Sherlock's weight started to increasingly rest on Irene's letting him be on top again, still inside her, and increasing his pace more. Irene's hands grabbed the sheets by instinct and pleasure, as Sherlock's pace was now in parallel with her pulse. He looked down at her to absorb her beauty, her passion, but also her delicacy. 'Ironic for a dominatrix to succumb to his affections so easily' – he thought to himself.

Irene looked into Sherlock's eyes between thrusts, and saw that those weren't the eyes of a detective anymore. They were the eyes of a man, who is vulnerable, gentle, and one who is a bit more complicated than the rest.

Sherlock's thrust started to engulf Irene, sending her mind to a sky-high feeling of glee, as he passionately kissed her, until her lips were swollen and bruised. She immediately kissed him back, with one hand exploring his back, the other tugging at his locks.

And with one final thrust, he screamed out "Irene!", as he collapsed on top of her, burrowing his head onto her shoulder, smelling the scent of the shampoo in her hair, as it was still damp. The dominatrix was no longer in dominance, as she was happy to be dominant to Sherlock, happily smiling to herself. She kissed his shoulder, while Sherlock was catching his breath, with a hint of growling with his baritone voice. Irene shivered again, in response to his beautiful deep voice ringing into her ear.

Sherlock lifted his head, and gently kissed Irene on the lips, as she rubbed the back of his scalp, delicately stroking it and digging her nails into it, massaging it. They both knew that they will spend this cold and stormy night together, so Irene bought the covers to engulf them both in them, falling asleep in each others' arms.


End file.
